


Better

by commanderada (ada)



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 08:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10827315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ada/pseuds/commanderada
Summary: Sloane’s eyes glanced at the bandages winding his torso, arms and neck with an unreadable expression on her face. Except Kaetus could understand it, and it was concern.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend Dikana: partner in crime in this ship and #TeamSloane <3
> 
> Update:
> 
> This fic has been translated into Russian! Thanks to Riru :) You can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851102).

“I told you to rest.”

She stared accusingly at the datapad Kaetus was holding, its screen flickering with numbers and letters. 

“And I told you not to worry.” Kaetus’ mandibles twitched in the turian equivalent of a smirk. “Who looks grumpy now?”

Clenching her jaw, Sloane rolled her eyes, sliding into the chair beside the bed. The sterile room, barely lit, still reeked of dried blood. 

“You could’ve at least asked someone to clean this mess. It stinks,” she added, wrinkling her nose. 

Kaetus chuckled, putting aside the data pad. “I'm sorry, I didn't know the trip to Meridian or whatever is called had softened you.”

To anyone, the frown in Sloane’s brow would have read like annoyance (and no one wanted to annoy Sloane Kelly). Kaetus? He knew better. 

“You’re such an ass.” Shaking her head, she punched him lightly on the shoulder. Then her fingers fell to his forearm, and they stayed there.

“I'm doing fine, Sloane,” Kaetus reassured her, finding her hand with his own. “McAfee is the one making me crazy, actually.”

Sloane smirked, their fingers intertwined. “Not enough, because he's done a shit job. I ordered him to keep an eye on you, only to find out you’ve been bossing around the place for weeks.”

“You can try to do better,” he declared, shifting his body weight on the ramshackled bunk’s mattress. The injuries still hurt like hell, despite the months that had passed since his rundown with the Collective hitmen. 

Everytime he remembered that night, something lurched in his stomach. It had nothing to do with the beating, the cuts, broken bones or torn-off plates all over his body. It was a nasty, revolting feeling that tasted like failure—the worst kind, because he had failed _her_.

He groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed. Before Kaetus could stand on his feet, Sloane pushed him back onto the bunk—gently, considering it was her. His reply was another groan and a grimace, filled with pain. Sloane’s eyes glanced at the bandages winding his torso, arms and neck with an unreadable expression on her face. Except Kaetus could understand it, and it was concern. 

It didn’t make him feel any better.

“I’m being fucking serious, Kaetus,” she stated, demanding. “You need to make a full recovery.” A pause, the glimpse of a sigh, then she leaned in. Their foreheads met. “I need it.”

His mandibles twitched again, his teeth grating. “Sloane,” he called, almost softly against her breath, cupping her neck. “I’m not staying in bed while that son of a bitch is out there alive.”

“Then you’ll get killed for nothing and dead you’re useless,” she snapped. “So get your damn rest, do as the doctor says, then we find the bastard and make him _pay_.”

Kaetus knew she was right. He’d known before—accepting it was the difficult part. 

“I’ll try,” he agreed, hiding a chuckle. 

She punched him again on the shoulder, smirking. “You better.”


End file.
